


Chaos

by MadDogMajima



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/F, Human Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadDogMajima/pseuds/MadDogMajima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A human sacrifice is needed to delay the imminent apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This was just an experiment to get out from the ever awful writing block.  
> I'm not a fan of purple prose, but I still had fun trying out a new writing style I've always considered too artificial for my taste. I wanted to keep it brief but at the same time paint a vivid fantasy/dystopian world, I hope I succeeded!
> 
> As always, English is not my native language, feel free to point out any mistakes!

They left her on the pillar, above the city and above the clouds. The wind roared, a loud tinnitus already plagued her ears. She was grateful the maids had braided her hair so tight she had trouble closing her eyes. 

The girl did not waste time trying to look less indecent, and let the air lift her black dress, uncover her legs: no one would see her there, even the enemy zeppelins knew better than to approach the Altar of the Goddess on a sacrifice morning.

She inhaled the cold breeze of the morning. The crimson sky told her a tale of a hot, scorching day she would not be there to see; but for now the bright white Sun lay low on the horizon, so big even the mother airship paled in comparison. 

She fixed her eyes on the smooth surface behind the red clouds. Soon, her eyes played tricks on her: the Sun turned yellow, then black, then her eyes hurt too much.

Below her, on the rocky surface her people called home, the capital city was burning. Flames rose from the skyscrapers’ glass windows, what was left of green had long vanished, there wasn’t enough water to tame the flames and keep the citizens from starving. Most left for the countryside, at the Gods’ mercy, hoping for a better, safer life for their children; others surrendered to the ever growing underground, safe from the air raids, safe from the fire. Men and women of faith locked the Temple door behind themselves: they had stored food and water and clothes and they’d pray until hunger or thirst either killed them or forced them underground with everyone else. 

Because the inevitable was coming, as the books predicted: dry earth, explosions from the sky, unstoppable flames. Then, no sooner than the last step of the last human to have inhabited the surface of the greatest city that’d ever been, chaos would take the Goddess’ place and guide the armies to their ultimate defeat, in a pool of sweat and blood. A day everyone would rather kill themselves than be found alive.

The girl stepped forward. A chill ran down her spine: so high above the ground, the burn of the flames didn’t reach her: her fingertips were blue with cold. She had to complete the ritual before the wind had the better of her, or the Goddess wouldn’t be pleased and the end of the world would approach for good, with no way to push the dreadful day back.

She approached the altar at the center of the concrete pillar. Once, as the legends went, it was so white it reflected the sun’s light. Now, black, dried blood from thousands of sacrifices had made it no different from a butcher's table. The marble gave in to the acid rain here and there, chipped debris had fallen on the concrete floor months and weeks ago.

The last sacrifice's remains, right on top of a consumed skeleton. Blood had soaked the white vest, yet the blades had not pierced her arms; the poor thing had not retreated on time to survive, nor had she spared herself a slow, agonising death. Silly being, no one ever rescued willing sacrifices.

She knelt at the altar, placed her forearms flat in the rough surface. The mechanism clicked. She pressed harder, because the blades that surfaced below her skin had been dulled by the centuries. First flesh, then veins and bones, the blade scratched away every defense: blood spluttered, twirled around the dried blotches, dropped down. Her freezing knees felt warm, wet. Her head was light, the pain reduced to a far away pulsating sore. She felt cold. She did not know when the blades had stopped working, but now her arms were slit in two, bones and muscles and blood mingling in a steaming pulp. Death would come soon, appeasing the Goddess, then she would send rain to quench the city’s thirst and put out the flames. All that was left was close her eyes.

And so she did, lying on her back in a puddle of her own blood. The girl let the wind embrace her, breathed in and out, waited for the inevitable.

The sun reached the zenith when she realised she was not dead yet. The heat from the Sun burned her eyelids, the eyes beneath and her whole face; she felt no pain. Her fingers moved freely. She clenched her fist, then dug her fingernails in her palms: nothing. She was alive, yet the only thing she felt was warmth.

Slow, she opened her eyes to stare at the sun above her, a giant, red ball that looked like it was coming for her, bigger every second. The girl gazed at her own body but she didn’t recognize it: a foreign object, grey and blue as the night’s sky, and yet it moved according to her will. The last drops of blood rolled down her arm on the floor, now the wound was so clean she saw the bones, the muscles and everything beyond the hole those blades left. But no blood was gushing out anymore.

The Sun kept coming at her, bigger and bigger. The girl was not afraid when the heat got so insufferable she thought her eyes were going to burn. Still, no pain.

She fell in the arms of a woman. Her strong arms held her up, lifting her from the blood stained ground. She had descended from the Sun, her skin was burning red. Fearless, the girl stroked the woman’s face: her lips smiled, the frown on her brow disappeared. She was looking at her with all the affection of a mother.

The girl realised she was not dead; the blood from the sacrifices became part of the Goddess, hers was still drying on the concrete floor as the Nameless Goddess of War and Sun stroked her face, removing a lock of hair from her forehead.

«You wished to see me, child.» the Goddess had not opened her mouth, her voice was loud and strong in the girl’s head «You very special child.»

The girl stared at her own blue arms, so different from the other’s. She had changed, not alive and not dead. 

«You have become divine. Was it your goal, child?»

She did not answer. She did not feel fear, pain or any emotion at all. She was cold, and that was all.

«When you shot down one of your country’s zeppelin, when you slashes your guards’ throat, when you set fire to your own city… I was watching it all. You created the need for a sacrifice, then you volunteered. I know, because I was watching your every step. What is it you want, child?»

Gods never waited for an answer. Gods knew. They always knew and played and joked with human lives. The girl kept her mouth shut. The Goddess’ hair flew in the wind. It looked liked it was on fire.

«I know, child. I know. That’s why I granted you what  you’ve been wishing for. You will become my legacy, my on-»

Even the Gods bled, the girl thought as the shard of marble she had grabbed penetrated the Goddess’ throat so deep she felt the bone. She stumbled on her feet, the Goddess collapsed on the floor, coughing, sobbing, struggling to stay alive while realisation struck: it was known, only deities were capable of murdering other deities. Humans weren’t granted the privilege.

The blood from the wound came to her, offering her new energy. She was more alive than ever.

The Sun disappeared from the sky, and the lightning struck. Below the pillar, the city succumbed, engulfed in flames. The last citizen had left the surface.

Chaos was born.


End file.
